


led by light of a star

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, character illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The group of people in the room with him are his family, he thinks. They’re dysfunctional and jagged around the edges, but Liam thinks that that’s what gives them character. That’s what makes them his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	led by light of a star

There’s a tea stain on Liam’s physics lab that wasn’t there when he left for class.

“Harry stopped by,” Louis supplies helpfully, stepping out of the bathroom while toweling his hair. The light flickers off before Louis can touch the switch and Liam sighs. They don’t have the extra money to spend on replacing the bulb and Louis looks guilty, as if he had forced the electricity out of the room with his personality.

It’s probably true.

“What did he say?” Liam asks. He sets his backpack on the floor and prods at the chair that’s lying on its side with his toe. It had broken the night before under the strain of the laundry basket and two of Louis’ textbooks.

“That Niall still won’t talk to him and that Zayn is tired of trying to mediate them.”

“You could use them for your psych project,” Liam suggests. “’When Bad Things Happen to Good People.’ Tea?”

“Sure,” Louis replies. He doesn’t comment on the psychology project, but Liam knows that his boyfriend still hasn’t chosen a topic yet. It’s half-way through the term and the assignment is due in six weeks. 

The kettle is worn and has definitely seen better days. Liam fills it up and pops it on the stove, watching the coils of the electric heaters glow faintly. The entire flat is a ramshackle assortment of furniture and nothing is brand new, and it makes something burn in the pit of Liam’s stomach every time he looks around at the odd collection that has become his life.

“Stop thinking so hard,” Louis says, wrapping himself around Liam like he’s a vine twisting and climbing its way up a tree. He tucks his chin over Liam’s shoulder and kisses at the corner of his jaw, a soft fluttery press of lips.

“Sorry,” Liam apologizes. “We’ll be alright, yeah?”

“Of course,” Louis promises. The kettle rumbles with the promise of boiling water and Louis tightens his grip around Liam’s waist. “We always have been, yeah?”

xx

They weren’t always so dirt poor. Liam remembers a time when they weren’t doing too badly at all.

Liam thinks that it maybe started with Zayn, a boy from his calculus class who never seemed to do any work and yet still managed to pull grades out of thin air. Zayn was Liam’s first friend at uni who was not Louis Tomlinson.

“Are there many jobs out there for experimental physicists?” Zayn had asked one day while their teacher droned on about logarithms that Liam already knew about.

“Yes and no,” Liam replied and that seemed to be a satisfactory answer for Zayn because that’s when they started being friends. 

In all honesty, it was nice to have a friend who understood Liam’s train of thought like Zayn. While he loved boyfriend, Louis often had no time or patience to understand Liam’s field of interest. Zayn, while having no interest, understood the concept of experimental physics a lot faster than Louis did.

“That’s some deep stuff, mate,” Zayn said one night at the bar down the road from campus. It was almost always filled solely with university students and generally not the kind of people that Liam would hang out with. “At least now I can say I was friends with Liam Payne in uni when you win a Nobel Prize.”

Liam had laughed and downed his shot, letting the sharp taste of it burn down his throat. “What about you?” he asked, requesting a second.

Zayn wanted to be a businessman, take over Malik Corporations from his father. 

“He really wanted me to,” Zayn slurred, his head lolling over to look at Liam. “At first I didn’t think business would suit me but now I’m really into it. It’s great.”  
And that’s probably what led Zayn to Liam one Thursday night with a panicked expression on his face and an empty wallet in his hands.

“I need to borrow some cash,” he had explained. “I’ve got an interview lined up for an internship at Syco, a music industry in London. I’ll pay you back, I promise.” So Liam had given Zayn the money and that had been that.

Zayn had paid back for the suit, almost immediately after his first pay check, but it never stopped him from asking for more. And sometime between the tenth and twentieth time, he had stopped paying back as frequently as Liam was lending.

“You could always say no,” Louis points out every now and again, but really, Liam can’t. It’s not like his friendship with Zayn is built solely on money, but he just can’t stop. He knows that Zayn doesn’t really need the extra cash, but the smile on his face is payment enough for the cash that Liam gives him.

xx

After Zayn came Harry, courtesy of Louis’ European history class; and where one finds Harry, they can always find Niall as well.

“They’re nice lads, you’ll like them,” was Louis’ only explanation as he dragged Liam out to the coffee shop on campus. Harry seemed to work there any time he wasn’t in a class and it was the only place where he could hang out with friends.

“Yeah, alright,” Liam replied, because Liam had met some of Louis’ other friends like Grimmy and Eleanor, and while they were perfectly nice people and amused Louis to no end, they weren’t _Liam’s friends_. They were Louis’, and they would probably always stay that way.

But Harry and Niall seemed to be the exception. Granted, Harry seemed to be able to charm the pants off of anyone (figuratively _and_ literally), but Liam genuinely enjoyed listening to the other boy ramble about his art class; the model Harry had sketched the day before had given him his number, which was more than any bowl of fruit had done for Harry during all his other paintings.

“I’m surprised you got along so well with Niall,” Louis commented that night into Liam’s chest. They stayed huddled under the blankets, the chill of January creeping through the cracks in their windows and walls. 

“So am I,” Liam admitted. Niall was loud and exuberant and probably the most positive person Liam had ever met; the complete opposite of Liam himself, really. But Niall had kept him laughing all night and had proven himself friendly with a guitar and had chatted about music with Liam all night. Besides, Liam had the sneaking suspicion that if he couldn’t be friends with Niall then Harry _wouldn’t_ be friends with him.

But even though Liam had made more friends in two weeks than he had at any other given period of his university life, he was still surprised when Niall called him up asking for a loan.

“God, I lost my econ textbook and had to buy a new one and now I don’t have any cash to buy Harry a birthday present. It’s next week, did he mention that to you? I was going to take him out for drinks but I can’t even do that now.”

So Liam had loaned Niall the money and received a promise in return and even now, almost a year later, he’s still waiting for that loan to be paid back. That and about every other one he’s given to Niall.

“Why don’t you just ask for the money?” Louis exclaims. When they fight, it’s always about money.

“I do, but he never has it!” Liam retorts. “And what about you? You can’t dump this all on me. You buy crap for Harry all the time and he has an actual paying job on campus. He doesn’t need you to buy stuff for him.”

“Oh, so like Zayn then?” Louis sneers, and Liam’s gut burns because Zayn is born of a rich family and has a paying internship at a record label and Liam is trying to balance a job at a book store off campus while trying to pass his midterms (he’s so far successful, but he’s not going to push his luck).

“Can we just … stop?” Liam asks. These conversations always drain him, and he knows that Louis dislikes them as much as he does. So they always just shove the problems under the rug and go to bed quiet and barely touching.

Liam always wakes up with Louis curled in his arms anyway, but it doesn’t make the situation any less real.

xx

Liam goes to the accountant at the beginning of December and isn’t surprised to hear that he should take out a loan. Again.

“How’s your job at the bookstore, Liam?” Nicole asks, shuffling Liam’s file around. It’s almost as if she’s looking for money that might be hiding between the pages, but Liam knows she’ll never find any.

“S’alright,” Liam replies. “Getting busier for Christmas.”

“Right.” Nicole nods her head and smiles at Liam. She’s too pretty to be an accountant, Liam always thinks, but the job seems to fit her well. “Are you doing anything special for Christmas?”

“Well, you’ve just told me that I can’t afford to, so no,” Liam replies. He tries to make a joke out of it but Nicole’s smile fades a little as she tucks her papers away.

“I hope things get better for you and Louis,” she says sincerely. “If you need anything at all, feel free to call me.”

“Thanks,” Liam says. He stands and shrugs on his coat. The goodbyes are always the hardest parts. “Happy holidays, Nicole.”

“You too,” Nicole says, and Liam walks out the door before he can see the trace of pity in her eyes.

xx

“So, I was thinking we could have the lads over at Christmas,” Louis says nonchalantly the next day. He’s standing in the kitchen in threadbare pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that Liam is pretty sure actually belongs to him.

“Yeah? And what shall we do?” Liam asks in return.

“Eat lots of food and watch movies, of course,” Louis replies. He’s all smiles and bright eyes for such an early time in the morning and Liam doesn’t want to have to tell Louis what he has to tell him.

“That’s a nice idea,” Liam says carefully, toeing at the still-broken chair on the ground. How long has that been sitting there? “But maybe we should save our money? Try and get one of the others to do host it?”

Louis shakes his head. “Zayn’s in Austria and he’s not flying in until Christmas Eve. And if we get Harry or Niall to do they won’t invite each other and that’ll be no fun. Now we can force them to sort out their problems.”

Liam knows these things are true. While Zayn has the money to hold the party, he doesn’t have the time. And while Harry and Niall both have the time and the extra cash, they’re still not speaking to each other. It’s been so long that Liam’s nearly forgotten what they’re fighting about exactly.

“How’s your psych project going?” he asks instead, changing the topic. 

Louis shrugs, this full-body gesture that he’s imitating from Harry. It looks slightly unnatural on Louis while it looks easy and flowing on Harry, but Liam doesn’t call him out on the attempt. “It’s coming,” Louis replies. “I’m not telling you what it’s about though. You’d either laugh or chuck me out.”

“That’s not disconcerting at all,” Liam says with a grin. He closes the distance between him and Louis and wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. Liam’ll leave the financial issues to a time that doesn’t feel so fragile and precious, but he knows he can’t leave it off for too much longer.

xx

It happens a week later, when Louis is eagerly looking through the flyers from the super market.

“Liam, that ham is on sale! We could totally afford it and still have enough money left over for dessert.”

Louis chatters incessantly about the different foods that he’d pick up for their Christmas dinner but all Liam can hear is the sound of money falling on the floor. He just can’t take it anymore.

“Louis,” he says, but his boyfriend doesn’t hear him. “Louis. _Stop._ ”

The desperation in his voice must have been louder than he had intended because Louis puts down the flyer immediately, eyeing Liam with concern etched into his face. _Beautiful_ , Liam thinks to himself.

“Louis,” he begins again, but pauses. It draws out the moment, like something out of a movie, and it makes Liam feel bad. “Louis, we can’t afford to host a Christmas party this year.”

“Oh,” is all Louis says. He looks down at the flyer again before glancing back up at Liam. “Well, that’s alright. It’s not really a big deal.”

But now that Liam has started, he can’t stop.

“I think we’ll have to cut the cable next month. And I’ll need a second job because what we’re bringing in right now isn’t enough and … I think I need to drop out of uni at the end of the semester.”

Louis’ chair crashes to the floor with a definite _thud_ and Liam idly wonders if it’s been damaged; they can’t afford to lose another chair. But the thought is wiped from his mind when he sees the absolutely livid expression on Louis’ face.

“ _Drop out of uni?_ ” he repeats. “Liam! Why didn’t you tell me we were this bad off! I wouldn’t have bought those lattes last week for me and Harry. Or I wouldn’t have watched that Pay-Per-View last night! Liam, you can’t drop out of uni!”

“There’s not exactly a lot of job openings for experiment physicists out there, Louis. I’ll never be able to afford the tuition if I have to stay on until I get my PhD.”

“Yeah, but if anyone should drop out it should be me!”

What.

Liam looks at Louis as if he’s grown a third eye. “You’re less than a year away from completing, Lou. You literally need two more credits and you’re done. You _cannot_ drop now. It’ll be such a waste.”

“As if you dropping isn’t,” Louis spits back, and ouch. That one hurt.

“It’ll only be temporary,” Liam says, running a hand through his hair. Maybe he should shave it all off. Then he wouldn’t have to spend unnecessary money on hair products. “As soon as you’re out of uni and our expenses even out a bit I’ll go to a community college or something. It’ll be fine.”

Louis, however, doesn’t look convinced. “This is exactly what I mean,” he says after a moment. “You always, always give, Liam, but you never ask for anything in return. Why haven’t you asked Zayn to pay you back for all that stuff he owes you? Or Niall?”

“Or Harry?” Liam shoots back. “I do, only they never have the cash on them.”

“Then maybe you should stop lending out money that we clearly don’t have!” Louis shouts. Liam winces at the sound and turns his head, avoiding Louis’ eyes. He’s right, clearly, but some part of Liam is just begging to pick a fight. So he does.

“Same goes for you,” Liam retorts. “This isn’t all on me, Louis. At least I’m giving my money to people that are almost as poor as us. You just spend it all on stuff that we don’t need. _Luxuries._ ”

“Zayn can afford anything and you know it,” Louis snaps.

And that’s it. Liam’s backed himself into a corner and both he and Louis know that there isn’t an argument that can worm Liam out of this one. So he stands, letting out a huff of air and scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m going out,” he says.

“ _Liam,_ ” Louis pleads, and when Liam finally looks up he’s surprised to see that Louis is crying. “Please don’t do this.”

“I just need some time,” is all Liam replies with. “Don’t stay up waiting for me tonight.”

xx

“He’s right, you know. Zayn _can_ afford anything.”

Liam sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “You’re not exactly helping, Nialler.” 

Niall shrugs sheepishly from the kitchen of his flat. His eyes are puffy and there are dark circles underneath them. The dark roots of his hair is starting to show through the dye and he carries himself in a manner that Liam can only describe as sad. Touches of Harry’s presence are littered around the flat that he once shared with Niall but Liam knows it’s been ages since Harry stayed the night with his best friend.

Liam knows because he’s been helping Niall pay the rent.

“Liam,” Niall says. He sits down across from Liam at his kitchen table and sweeps a folder of bills onto an empty chair. He eyes them wearily, as if they’ll unlock the secrets to his devastated friendship before glancing back at Liam. “You don’t have to baby all of us. We can take care of ourselves.”

“Clearly, you can’t,” Liam replies. He doesn’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but Niall drops his gaze again almost immediately. 

“I’ll find another roommate,” is all Niall says in reply. “Harry’s practically moved in with Grimmy. He hasn’t said it, and he still pays what he can on the flat, but we’re just … we’re so far apart now. There’s no point in him coming back.”

The hurt in Niall’s voice makes Liam feel bad because, in all honesty, he hasn’t put a lot of effort into trying to help Harry and Niall sort out their issues. That’s mostly been Louis’ project, though Liam has the suspicion that his boyfriend hadn’t exactly been doing a great job. Niall constantly looks like he’s going to simultaneously vomit and pass out, and from what little Liam’s seen of Harry, he looks about the same.

“Niall, God, I don’t even know what you guys are arguing about anymore.”

“He told me to give up,” Niall replies sadly. “That they’ll never find a cure. That I should give up on everything because being a singer is just a pipe dream, that I’ll never make it. I told him he’s just jealous because that surgery messed up his voice. But it’s all true, Liam. I’m in remission but that’s not a cure. And I’m nothing special when it comes to singing. That’s always been Harry. But he’ll never sing again, not like he used to. We’re both messed up and all we had was each other, but now we don’t even have that.”

Liam looks down at his hands. It sounds strangely like what’s happening between him and Louis, the part about only having each other. But Liam knows it’s not true.

“You’re not alone, Niall,” he says, stretching a hand out across the table to catch his friend’s hand. Niall looks at him with big blue eyes and exhales slowly. “Things’ll get themselves sorted out in the end.”

xx

Liam sends Niall to bed not too long after that and then crashes on the sofa. He doesn’t want to lose Louis, but he also can’t stand the idea of going back for a second confrontation.

Because, the thing is, Liam knows he’ll defend Zayn. He knows he’ll pull out all the stops to try and make Zayn look innocent, but it’s hard. He thinks of what Niall said, about how he didn’t have to be the mother looking after their little flock of friends, but he does. They’re all so incapable of taking care of themselves that Liam just can’t help it.

 _Maybe you should take care of yourself first_ , a small voice in the back of Liam’s head says, so with that, he punches the pillow into a comfier shape and goes to sleep.

xx

Niall’s still asleep when Liam leaves the next morning, shuddering breaths loud in the flat from where his bedroom door is thrown wide open.

Liam remembers a time when Niall wasn’t sick, when he didn’t have an extra burden of health weighing on his thin shoulders. It had come suddenly and unexpectedly, as all illnesses do, in the second year that Liam knew the Irish boy. Talks of various treatments had floated through their group of friends like a dark cloud, the costs adding up in Liam’s head. He was thankful for his and Louis’ health because he knew they’d never be able to afford the medical bills if either of them got sick. None of them could, save for maybe Zayn, but Niall’s parents had been paying for a large majority of the costs whenever they could.  
It makes Liam ache a little on the inside, knowing his parents would not be willing to do the same.

Experimental physics was not exactly a respectable career choice. Liam’s almost one hundred percent sure that his parents would have supported a recording contract and sold out shows around the world than have their only son go to university for a field that wasn’t even defined. It was called experimental for a reason.

But Liam knows that if he had become a doctor like his parents had wanted, or a lawyer like Zayn, or a teacher or _something other than what he wanted_ , he never would have met Louis. Or Harry or Niall. He probably wouldn’t have met Zayn either, or else not have been interesting enough to talk to. His whole life revolves around the probability of particles of matter, and frankly, Liam wouldn’t change any of it.

xx

When Liam gets home there is no sign of Louis other than a note on the table saying he’s gone to classes and that they should talk when he gets home. Liam doesn’t exactly have any intentions of being around when Louis finally does show up, so he hurries off to have a shower and get changed.

The bathroom light is still in need of replacing and now the light down the hall has gone out as well. There are still remnants of their broken chair in the living room and there’s a hole in the middle of the bedspread from where Louis got it snagged on one of the cupboard handles in the kitchen when they were folding it. The whole flat looks old and ramshackle, a perspective Liam never viewed it as before, and it makes him cringe. It never used to look this bad, not with Louis’ presence filling it and the prospect of their friends stopping by with stories of people they’ve met and places they’ve been. Now, without any of that, the flat feels empty and hollow and full of bad memories. Liam showers quickly and leaves, trying to shake off the cobwebs that cling to his skin.

xx

“Chai tea latte,” Harry announces, handing Liam’s drink to him and then dropping into the empty seat across the table. The café is reasonably busy but no one seems to mind that Harry tends to take breaks whenever. He’s half the reason the shop gets so much business anyway.

“Thanks,” Liam mumbles, cupping the mug in an effort to warm his hands.

“So, Louis told me about your fight,” Harry says, tipping his chair back precariously. “But you guys’ll get it sorted, right?”

Liam shrugs because, honestly, he doesn’t know. He’s never had the urge to just get up and avoid Louis before, but the idea of sitting down and talking about their financial situation feels like something Liam is willing to avoid like the plague.

“Dunno,” Liam replies. “I could be asking the same thing about you and Niall.”

Harry’s sunny expression turns stony, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “Niall and I … we’re different than you and Louis.”

Liam shakes his head. “Not really. If not for the fact that I see you with a new girl every two weeks and Niall’s been pining after that girl from his music composition class, then I’d say you two were practically married. C’mon, Haz. You’ve been friends with Niall for ages. Can’t you look past this? Can’t you forgive him?”

“Why do I have to be the one to forgive?” Harry asks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You know what I mean,” Liam replies, sighing. “For the both of you to apologize to each other.”

It’s Harry’s turn to shrug now. The younger boy turns his head and glances out the window, smoothing his hands down the folds of his apron. “I can’t apologize for what I said, Liam,” he says finally. “The things I said to him … I can’t take them back. They’re words I shouldn’t say to anyone, let alone my best friend. I just … it’s more like I can’t forgive myself. I can’t tell myself it’s okay to have said those things.”

Liam hums sympathetically. “Harry, Niall misses you a lot. It looks like he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in ages.”

“Probably stressing for midterms,” Harry mumbles, but they both know it’s just an excuse to deny acknowledgement. “I should get back to work.”

Liam nods and slides some money across the table. “I know I shouldn’t really be giving this to you, but you look like you could use a pick me up. Cheers, mate.” He stands, shrugging his coat on and heading out the door. As Liam walks past the window he spots Harry sitting exactly where he left him staring at the money.

xx

By the time Liam gets home it’s practically dark, but Louis’ shoes are by the door which means he hasn’t gone out at all. The twisting feeling in Liam’s stomach intensifies as he toes off his boots and hangs up his coat.

“Liam?” Louis calls from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Liam replies. He stumbles down the darkened hallway and extends his hands so as not to bump into the table. “Why don’t you turn the lights on, Lou?”

“We’re late on the electricity bill again.”

Oh. 

Liam sinks down into a chair and sighs. “Sorry, sorry. I should’ve … I forgot.”

“Liam,” Louis says again, only this time, it’s quiet, soft, said in the same voice Louis uses in bed in the mornings. “Liam, I don’t want us to fall apart.”

“We’re not,” Liam says defiantly.

“But we are,” Louis insists. “I haven’t seen you for ages. We’re always working or going to school or sleeping or running past each other. This isn’t … this can’t be it.”

And for the first time, Liam actually stops and thinks about what Louis’ said. It’s true. They haven’t really sat down for a movie in ages, or gone out and done something, or had sex or anything. It’s like they’re always running in opposite directions, or else sliding past each other at inopportune moments; ships passing in the night.

“I don’t want it to be,” Liam answers honestly. “It’s just so frustrating to literally be the broke university students. I don’t want that for us, Louis.”

“So let’s not let it,” Louis says fiercely. He reaches across the table and grabs Liam’s hands. “I’ll finish up my degree, get a job as a counselor or something. We can take out another loan if Nicole thinks it’s alright and we’ll get you through uni. We’ll get the lads to pay back everything they owe us and sell all the crap we don’t need. Liam, we will make this work, dammit.”

Liam is suddenly reminded of when he first met Louis. It had been at the football tryouts for the uni team. Neither of them had made it but they had started a friendship. A friendship that developed into something more, something that Liam can’t even begin to explain.

“Yeah,” Liam croaks out finally, realizing that Louis is waiting for him to say something. “God, Lou, I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you sooner but you were just so excited for this Christmas party and I couldn’t-“

“Don’t,” Louis interrupts. “Let’s just forget about it. We’ll sort it out together and everything’ll be fine.”

“Right,” Liam murmurs. “Everything will be fine.”

xx

Everything is, in fact, not fine.

Liam finds himself at the hospital two nights later, the florescent lights humming above him and the seat cushion beneath him feeling far too itchy. It’s twelve-thirty at night but Liam feels wide awake, his nerves singing with worry as he waits.

Waits for a doctor.

Waits for Louis.

Waits for Harry or Zayn.

Waits for Niall.

He’d gone to Niall’s flat after his late class to drop off a hoodie he’d found while he and Louis were cleaning up the flat, organizing things to sell and what was worth keeping. What he’d found was an unconscious Niall, barely breathing and sweating up a storm. Liam had called the ambulance and then had been frantically trying to get a hold of _someone_ for the last two hours.

He’d been sent straight to voice mail with Harry, and Zayn was on a flight from Austria, but Liam had no idea where Louis was. He’d been calling him for the better part of the night and wasn’t making any connections at all.

“Why us?” Liam murmurs to himself in the empty waiting room. “Why now?”

It’s Christmas Eve – or day now, Liam thinks humourlessly - and all Liam can think about is the dumb Christmas party that Louis wanted to throw and how he doesn’t even know if Niall survived the night or where any of his friends are. The whole debacle leaves a bitter taste in Liam’s mouth and he shuts his eyes tightly to stop the tears.

When Liam opens his eyes again it’s because he’s being shaken and someone is calling his name. 

“Liam. Liam, wake up!” 

Slowly, Liam’s vision comes back into focus and he can see Louis standing above him, looking worried. 

“Liam, I got your text messages,” Louis says. He glances towards the doors to the operating rooms before looking back to Liam. “How are you?”

Liam shrugs, because honestly, he’s a little numb, but the next thing he knows he’s being hauled to his feet and Louis is wrapping him in a hug.

“Merry Christmas,” Liam mumbles into Louis’ shoulder.

A soft laugh escapes Louis. “Merry Christmas to you too,” he replies.

Harry shows up not long after that, looking ten kinds of tired and extremely disheveled, something Liam has never seen before. He’s always been jealous of Harry’s effortless look, a style that makes him look like he rolled out of bed every morning looking perfect. But now Harry looks anything but put together, his eyes flitting around the room.

“What happened?” he croaks as he approaches Liam, his hands coming up to grip Liam’s arms. “What’s happening?”

There’s fear running through Harry’s eyes that reminds Liam of Louis and the night they fought; there’s a certain uncertainty in the air and Liam is suddenly unsure of what to tell Harry.

“He’s in surgery,” Liam says finally, gripping Harry’s hands within his own. “They should be done soon; we’re just waiting to hear back from a doctor.”  
“But for what?!” Harry cries. “You don’t need surgery for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.”

“Haz, sit down,” Louis says, not unkindly. He pushes Harry into the nearest seat and sits down next to him, running a hand soothingly through the younger boy’s hair.

“Liam,” Harry pleads, and Liam sits back down on the itchy chair he had briefly vacated to greet his friends.

“They found cancerous cells in his kidney,” Liam says quietly. “They think he’ll have a high chance of survival as it doesn’t appear to have spread anywhere else. It’s going to be fine, Harry. Nialler’s a fighter; you should know that better than anyone.”

Harry hiccups down a sob and drops his head into his hands. “The fight,” he moans. “If we hadn’t fought over such _stupid_ things then I would’ve been there. I know the symptoms. I could’ve done something.”

“You don’t know that,” Louis reminds gently. 

Harry looks up, his eyes watery and his cheeks blotchy with colour. “No,” he says defiantly, “but I won’t be making the same mistake twice.”

Despite the situation, Liam finds the corners of his mouth turning up at the ends. While he wished it hadn’t taken a near-death experience for Niall and Harry to come back together, it was nice to see his friends reuniting. 

“C’mon,” he says, standing and tugging on both Harry and Louis’ arms. “Niall’ll be fine if we go downstairs to the coffee shop for a moment. I’m sure he’ll want us awake when we visit him later.

xx

By the time Zayn shows up Niall has been moved to a recovery ward and Liam is standing in yet another waiting room.

“Jesus,” Zayn says when he enters the room. “I had to call Grimmy to find out where you lads where. Nearly gave me a right heart attack when he said you were at the hospital.”

“Good to see you too, Zayn,” Liam mumbles with a laugh as he pulls his friend into a hug. Zayn’s quiff is looking unnaturally tall and his face looks pinched and tired, no doubt from the late night flight back from Austria the previous evening.

“How’s Nialler?” 

“Better. They’re only allowing one person in at a time right now so we’ve let Harry. They’re trying to sort out everything.”

“That’s still a thing?” Zayn asks, eyebrows raising.

“Well, hopefully not,” Louis chimes, sliding into the conversation seamlessly. He hands Liam a coffee – his fourth of the day – and pulls Zayn into a one-armed hug. “Good to see you, mate.”

They chat idly, catching up on all of Zayn’s escapades in Austria and his job at the music company.

“It’s good, it’s good,” Zayn says. “It’s going to be hard making the switch to my dad’s company; I almost don’t want to.”

“Except for the fact that you’re going to make ten bajillion dollars there,” Louis points out. There’s a touch of bitterness to his voice, but it’s too subtle for Zayn to notice. He just shrugs instead and nods in acknowledgement to a nurse who is hovering on the edge of the group.

“Liam Payne?” she asks, gesturing towards the group.

“That’s me,” Liam replies. “What can I help you with?”

“This is the billing for Mr. Horan’s procedures at the hospital. We accept monthly billing or if you would like to pay up front …” The words get lost on Liam’s ears as he stares down the astronomical figure in front of him. He’s pretty sure that he doesn’t even make that much money at the book store in a year. Louis is looking at him curiously, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, and clearly wondering how they’ll manage to either pay off the bill or tell Niall’s family that they have yet another hospital charge waiting for them.

“I’ve got it,” Zayn declares, snatching the paper from the nurse’s hand. “Where can I talk the details over?”

The nurse smiles and leads Zayn away while Liam and Louis sink into chairs (these ones are upholstered in fake leather that squeak noisily whenever Liam shifts in them; he prefers the scratchy fabric of the OR waiting room).

“I’m so glad that we’re healthy,” Louis says after a moment. “I don’t know how we’d be able to pay for medical bills like that.”

“Government helps a little.”

“True, but still, you know that wouldn’t be enough.”

And Liam does know. He thinks that if it were really down to a life-or-death illness his parents might try to help him out, but if it were Louis. Liam doesn’t even want to ponder the idea.

“Ah, the Mighty Moneymaker returns,” Louis announces cheerfully when Zayn saunters back over to their group.

“Just think of it as a Christmas present to the Horans,” Zayn replies breezily. “I’m sure they didn’t want to see _that_ on Christmas morning under the tree.”  
“Thanks, Zayn,” Liam adds. “I owe you one.”

Zayn looks at him with a strangled expression his face. “You owe me? Liam, let’s get real. I think I must owe you half of my career. You’re probably the soul reason I finished half of my assignments at uni.”

“Probably not.”

“Probably yes. C’mon, Li. You were always pushing me to get work done; you actually reminded me a bit of my father.”

Liam feels the colour flood to his cheeks in embarrassment and whacks Louis on the leg where he’s trying to stifle his laughter.

“No, no, in this case it’s a good thing. Look, I actually wanted to talk to you about money and whatnot,” Zayn continues, ignoring Liam and Louis with a time-honed skill. “I know this research centre here in London that’s doing a paid internship next semester. Bet you can’t guess what for.”

The idea of having a paid internship for something that he enjoys makes Liam’s head spin. “Are you kidding?” he asks weakly, finding Louis’ hand and gripping it tightly in his own. “Is this a cruel joke?”

“Of course not!” Zayn exclaims indignantly. “What do you take me for, Liam? God. Happy Christmas to you too.”

“It’s Christmas,” Louis voice suddenly. Liam had forgotten as well, the turmoil of the night before making time wither and stand still within the halls of the hospital. 

Zayn’s about to open his mouth again when a nurse appears carrying a clipboard and wearing a smile on her face.

“Gentlemen,” she says, addressing the boys. “Mr. Horan is ready to take more visitors now. Please be mindful of other guests on the floor and don’t tire Mr. Horan out too much. He is responding quite well to the new treatments we’ve given him and we’re hoping for a speedy recovery.”

There’s no promise in her words for the cancer to be gone, but Liam will take what he can get. They thank the nurse and scurry down the hall to where Niall’s staying in a private room. Liam’s not surprised to find Harry tucked under the sheets with Niall, whispering jokes into the blonde’s ear that make him laugh weakly.

“Lads,” Niall says, spotting his friends. “Happy Christmas!”

“You too, Nialler,” Zayn says. “You’re a real lucky leprechaun, you know that?”

“Ay, you only get to make leprechaun jokes on St. Patty’s day.”

“Well, I might not be here then so I’ve got to say them now,” Zayn replies with a grin. He falls into a chair next to the bed and starts an animated conversation with Niall and Harry, leaving Louis and Liam to stand together near the door.

“Look at all our little babies back together again,” Louis whispers to Liam, nudging him in the ribs. There’s tension between them still, but Liam can feel it ebbing out of their relationship slowly. Things are still awkward, like their walking on broken glass, but he can feel the cuts healing and the bruises fading. They will get better.

“I guess you got your Christmas party after all, Louis,” Liam remarks with a laugh.

“Not exactly where I wanted it,” Louis replies. “By the way, did I mention I got ninety-five percent on my psych project?”

This is news to Liam. “Really?” he asks, a smile stretching on his face. “That’s great! What did you end up writing it on?”

“Us,” Louis replies easily. “And Niall and Harry and Zayn. I wrote about how no matter what happens – no matter what arguments come between us or how far away we travel from each other – our relationships with each other are too strong to be torn easily.”

“That’s … cute,” Liam says, glancing fondly at his friends. Zayn has started to eat Niall’s pudding, which Niall doesn’t seem to be very pleased about.

“Of course it is,” Louis adds. He leans up on his toes to kiss Liam on the cheek. “I better go break that up before someone loses an eye. Can’t have our children fighting, now can we?”

Liam just laughs. The group of people in the room with him are his family, he thinks. They’re dysfunctional and jagged around the edges, but Liam thinks that that’s what gives them character. That’s what makes them his.

“Merry Christmas, Louis.”

“Merry Christmas, Liam.”

**Author's Note:**

> All medical injustices are my own. I apologize for any errors.


End file.
